


Next to You

by flintxwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, fa lalalala, sharing the same bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flintxwood/pseuds/flintxwood
Summary: A holiday with his parents was the usual for Oliver. Friends of his mother however, wasn't. Sharing a room with Marcus Flint also wasn't.





	

Spending Christmas in a muggle hotel was the usual thing for Oliver’s family. His mother was a muggle and it was her solution to get away from magic for a little while. He liked going out to the hotel but it was annoying he couldn’t use any magic. He turned seventeen last year and his parents didn’t let him take his wand. It was the same for that year but it was still a pain. 

This year was a little different though. His mum’s new co-worker was coming with her husband and son. She said it was for good relations or something, he didn’t really care. But his parents were going to have a joint room with the woman and her husband and he had to share with the son. He wasn’t too fond of that, since he didn’t know this guy but he’d put up with it. He didn’t have really any muggle friends so maybe they’d get along.

It was snowing heavily at the hotel, which for most people would be the opposite of a holiday but Oliver adored the snow. He especially loved keeping warm with thick blankets with the heater on high.

He hopped out of the car and walked inside to the lobby, enjoying the feeling of the warmth. It was warm in the car but not as warm as it was inside the hotel. He rubbed his hands together, shrugging off his coat, and wiping away the snow in his hair. His parents came in behind him and walked to the check in counter. He walked to the seating area as two people were getting up, and sat in an arm chair not sparing a glance at who was already sitting there, hunched over a Gameboy. He slouched in it comfortably, yawning as he threw his head back.

“Wood?”

He sat up straight, looking at the guy that was sitting in the other chair. And he saw exactly the last person he’d expect.

Marcus bloody Flint.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Marcus asked, not even in an aggressive tone, in genuine confusion. He stared at him clearly baffled to see him. Oliver was probably mirroring his expression.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” he echoed. “What the fuck are you doing here, Flint?” 

“I asked you first, Wood,” Marcus snapped. 

He huffed. “Holiday with my parents,” he grunted. “What about you?”

Marcus frowned. “My step-mum’s co-worker invited us.”

He stared at him for a moment. 

Co-worker. Muggle hotel. He’d never heard about Marcus having a step mum. Or his dad marrying a muggle. He glanced over at his parents, who were talking to the people he saw stand up, then back at Marcus. 

Oh fuck no.

Marcus looked at the check in counter too and back at Oliver, his mouth gaping open, before pressing it into a thin line as his eyes narrowed. He was clearly thinking the exact same thing he was.

“Oh good, you’ve met,” grinned his mum as she walked back to him with his dad and how he could guess were Marcus’s parent. 

“Yeah, we know each other actually,” Oliver said flatly. “From school.”

“Oh really?” asked the woman Oliver presumed was Marcus step mum. “Well, small world it is, ain’t it,” she said cheerily. “We’ve got your room key.” She handed Marcus the keys to the room, only one. Oliver figured the hotel didn’t bother to make copies. 

Oliver frowned but nodded anyway. Marcus’s lips were still in a straight line, clearly not happy with the situation as he stared down at the keys. His gaze shifted to his dad. “Do we have to share a room?”

His dad frowned at him. “Marc, I told you, there’s no more vacancies,” he replied, clearly not happy with his son’s attitude. “Come on, you two can handle sharing a room. At least you actually know each other.”

Marcus huffed but nodded and they followed their parents upstairs to where they’d be staying. He didn’t bother asking Marcus where the room was, simply following him as he dragged his suitcase. 

They stopped outside a room on the third floor and Marcus opened it. Oliver went to follow but Marcus stood still in the doorway, not allowing him to pass. Before Oliver could shove him out of the way he turned around and walked right passed Oliver, charging to the room his dad and step mum had gone into.

“Dad!” he called, his feet stopping on the ground. Oliver furrowed his brows, wondering what the problem could be now. He walked into the small room but stopped in his tracks. He saw exactly the issue Marcus had.

There was only one bed.

He threw in his suitcase and turned and walked into his parents’ room. “There’s only one bed!” he exasperated, throwing his hands into air. 

His mum frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“The room Flint and I have to share, there’s only one bed!” he explained, his voice going a little too high for his liking. 

As if she didn’t believe him she walked into the room, Oliver following her, and saw exactly what he meant. 

“Oh, there must’ve been a mix up,” she said with a frown. Behind them Marcus and his dad walked into the room. 

“A mix up!” he groaned. “What do we do now?”

“Well, like I said before, there’s no vacancies,” Marcus’s dad said behind them. 

“So what do we then?” Marcus asked, anger rising in his tone. “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as him.”

“Trust me, neither will I,” he retorted. “Rather sleep on the floor.”

“Fine, do that,” Marcus snapped back. 

He heard his mum sigh behind him. “You two clearly really know each other,” she remarked.

Marcus’s father raised a brow. “Wait, I thought I knew your face,” he said. “You’re on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Captain, actually.”

Marcus’s father actually smiled and let out a small laugh. “Ah, that explains it.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Marcus bit at him.

“Marc is extremely competitive, always has been,” Marcus’s dad said, as if Marcus hadn’t said anything. “He’s the captain of his own team,” he added with a little pride in his tone. Clearly the older wizard was happy with his son’s achievement, as he clapped a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. He had Marcus’s eyes, he realised. But his hair was stark blond rather than the black curly hair Marcus had. It was most likely an inheritance from his mother. 

His mum laughed beside him. “So is Oliver,” she said. She turned to him. “Better get unpacked, okay?” and she left the room and Marcus’s dad patted his son’s shoulder before leaving too. 

They stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to break the silence. Marcus was scowling at him but that wasn’t unique for him. Oliver was frowning back at him. 

This was such a bullshit situation. 

Marcus huffed and threw his suitcase aside. “So, sleeping on the floor then?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at him. “I wasn’t serious about that.”

“Well, I’m taking the bed,” he said, walking passed him.

“Who says you get the bed?” Oliver snapped, turning around to look at him. 

“I’m older,” Marcus said with a shrug. “And bigger,” he added. Both statements were true. Marcus was a year older than him and he was burly as hell. And not to mention he was taller. He must’ve been around 6’7, while Oliver was about 6’3. He was large, so large. But not so large Oliver was scared of him. He’d gotten a good grasp on what Marcus was like over the years. He loved to intimidate people. But aside from a shove or kicks during a Quidditch game, he’d never actually heard of him hurting someone. Regardless of that, he did scare people. But Oliver saw right through it. 

“Whatever, mate,” he muttered. “Floor’ll be more comfortable than next to you.”

Marcus shot him a scowl. “Do you have your wand?” he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject. 

“No,” Oliver said. “Parents wouldn’t let me bring it.”

Marcus huffed. “Fuck, my dad didn’t let me have mine either.”

Oliver shrugged. “Not much we can do with ‘em ‘round here.”

“Yeah, I just feel naked without it,” he replied. 

“Well… it won’t be forever.”

…

He didn’t do too much for the rest of the day. He skied down one of the tracks and got hot chocolate when the sun started to set. When he got back to his room he could hear the shower running so he guessed Marcus was either back or hadn’t ever left since the door was unlocked. He ignored the thought of him in the shower and decided to set up his bed. Spare blankets were kept in the cupboard so he got out a couple of thick blankets and one of the pillows on the double bed (not even a fucking queen sized).

He heard Marcus open the door of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his hips, his body still dripping wet, water dripping in the crevices of his toned body. Oliver felt his heart start to race, and he swallowed, ignoring the tugging in his stomach. He’d been pretty good at ignoring how he felt about Marcus but it didn’t help that he was standing there, so close to being completely naked. 

He glanced away before Marcus noticed he was staring, Marcus bending over his suitcase to get clothes out.

“So,” Marcus spoke up. “You’re really going to sleep on the floor?” 

Oliver forced himself to meet his eye. He was smirking at him. “Yes,” he replied.

“You can’t hate me that much, can you?”

He pursed his lips at him. “Well I do.”

Marcus shrugged and turned to go back into the bathroom. That was when Oliver noticed the rose tattoo on his shoulder in the middle of his shoulder blades. It was a simple but large red rose, right over his spin. Marcus having tattoos wasn’t surprising. A rose though… that caught him off guard. 

He had to force his eyes away again, pushing the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. He’d never seen Marcus without a shirt and he didn’t expect his body to be so… defined. Maybe he should’ve expected it but he didn’t stop the tugging in his stomach. 

He focussed back on setting his bed, straightening his blankets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Stupid fucking feelings for stupid fucking Marcus. 

“Shower’s still hot,” Marcus said when he walked back into the room. He was wearing old pyjama pants and long sleeved shirt. His hair was still wet, curling slightly as it dried. 

He nodded and took his shower. It helped cool him off a little after maybe watching Marcus for too long. 

…

The floor was bloody uncomfortable but it was better than sleeping next to Marcus. 

They walked downstairs to breakfast together, Oliver cracking neck trying to get the kinks out. He tried not to be obvious, he knew if he was Marcus would make a remark he should’ve slept in the bed with him. 

“Does it always snow this heavy up here?” Marcus asked, looking out the window. 

Oliver followed his gaze. “No,” he said. “Damn, it really is snowing hard.”

He looked back at him. “All the more reason to stay inside.”

“Don’t like the snow then?” he asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Hate it.” 

When they got to the restaurant downstairs Oliver saw their parents already awake and eating. Oliver decided to just get jam and toast, while Marcus seemed to favour cereal. They sat with their parents, the only two seats left were next to each other. At this point they had to accept they’re going to be near each other a lot.

“Morning boys,” his dad said. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Marcus said. “Oliver slept on the floor though so I doubt he did.” 

That caught him off guard. He’d never heard ‘Oliver’ on Marcus’s lips. He understood why he did, he wouldn’t call him ‘Wood’ to his parents. But it was still strange. 

“You seriously slept on the floor?” his mum asked, looking at him. “That’s not good for your neck.”

Sleeping next to Marcus wouldn’t have been good for his wellbeing. But he just shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad.”

His parents simply rolled their eyes. As he spread the jam on his toast, Marcus’s step mum glanced at Marcus. 

“Marc, did you-“

“Yes,” he cut in before she could finish, a hint of panic in his tone. He cleared his throat. “Yes Clare, I did,” he repeated, a little calmer this time. 

“Just makin-“

“I’m nineteen, you don’t have to worry. Can take care of myself and all.”

Oliver saw his parents look at each other from the corners of their eyes and Oliver’s eyes shifted to Marcus. Whatever he had to do, he clearly didn’t want them to know. 

He saw Clare glance at Marcus’s dad across the table who just shrugged before going back to eating. Marcus seemed to be focussing on eating his cereal, wanting to leave what happened behind them. 

“So, anyway,” Clare said clearing her throat. “The snow’s really coming down outside.” 

“Noticed,” Marcus grunted. There was the Marcus he knew. 

“The hotel said their might be a storm so you might want to stay inside,” she continued like Marcus didn’t make his remark. 

Marcus shrugged. “Wasn’t planning to go outside anyway.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who hates the snow as much as you do,” Clare said rolling her eyes. She looked at Oliver. “Does he even go down to that village near your school during winter?”

Oliver thought about it for a moment. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen Marcus down in Hogsmeade when it was snowing. So he shrugged. “I haven’t noticed,” he replied. 

“I can speak for myself,” Marcus said talking through his mouthful of cereal. 

Clare gave him a stern look. “Marcus, chew,” she scolded. His cheeks tinted pinked slightly and he chewed with his mouth closed, swallowing down his food. 

Oliver held back a snicker. Marcus was the leader sort but to watch his step mum boss him around enough for him to listen was kind of hilarious. 

“And no,” Marcus said. “It’s too cold.”

Oliver snorted. “I bet you make Higgs and Pucey get you sweets from Honeydukes,” he jabbed. 

Marcus actually gave him a small smile. “No, I just make them share theirs.”

Oliver laughed a little and Marcus did too. They were getting along, which was a little weird for them. But maybe being out of Hogwart’s environment lessened their natural rivalry. The few times they did get along we’re admittedly nice. It didn’t help with the weird way he felt about him but he couldn’t deny it was better than fighting. 

“Well, either way, you should probably stay inside too, Oliver,” his mum said. “I don’t want you to ski and end up hurting yourself.”

“Well then what am I meant to do?” he frowned. 

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” she said.

…

Oliver and Marcus were cooped up in their room for most of the day. There was nothing on TV but Oliver found a book in the hotel’s library. They had a lot of old classics, nothing too appealing. He just picked up some book called Pride and Prejudice since it looked the most interesting. He didn’t really know much about muggle classics but what he’d already read was okay. 

Marcus was playing his Gameboy, something he was a little surprised to see. He figured Clare must’ve got it for him, since muggle technologically was ignored by pure-bloods. Most half-bloods had at least some muggle influence in their lives. But he knew Marcus was a pure-blood so the fact he was so interested in the game was a little bit of a shock. 

“What you playing?” he asked, glancing up from the book.

“Mario,” he muttered, not even looking up.

“Clare get you that?”

“Her sister,” he replied. “Was surprised to hear I didn’t have one.”

“Muggles, I guess.”

Marcus shrugged. “It’s fun,” he said. “Since it won’t work at school I play as much as I can.”

“So you’d rather do that than go out into the snow?” Oliver smiled. 

“Yep.”

“The snow isn’t that bad.” 

Marcus still wasn’t looking at him, the sound of the Gameboy’s buttons clicking loudly. “I wouldn’t go out anyway.”

He frowned at him. “Why do you hate the snow so much?”

He saw Marcus’s large teeth sink into his bottom lip, hesitating slightly. “Just do, Wood. Can you bugger off.”

His frown deepened, watching Marcus as his shoulders tensed. Something was clearly wrong but he knew it was better to leave it. If Marcus wanted to tell him he would. But he was definitely the type of person that would respond to pushing with hostility. He’d honestly never met someone so closed off in their emotions. 

The day went on mostly like that. They didn’t speak for hours, not even when they went downstairs for dinner. Oliver had showered and was getting ready for bed when Marcus was in.

Then the lights cut out.

“What the fuck!” came Marcus’s shriek and the water cut off. The door flung open as he walked out soaking wet in nothing but a towel. “What happened?” he asked.

“Clearly the power’s out,” Oliver said, and could feel the cold from the absence of the heater. 

Someone knocked at the door and Oliver heard Clare’s voice. “Boys, you okay?” 

She opened the door without waiting for a response and Oliver saw a torch in her hand. “They’re giving out torches in the corridor,” she said.

“What happened to the power?” Oliver asked. 

“The storm,” she said. “It’s real bad out so they’re telling people to put the extra blankets on their beds.”

“So we’re just meant to wait until morning?” Marcus asked, frowning, getting a nod. “Well, can I have my wand instead of a torch?” 

Clare frowned at him. “Is this an emergency? Can’t a torch do what you need?”

“Well, yeah but-“

“You can take mine,” she said, tossing him the torch. Marcus was clearly caught off guard and almost dropped it. “Sleep well, boys,” she said before closing the door behind her. 

Oliver glanced at Marcus. “Emergency?”

“My dad has my wand,” he explained. “Said he’d let me have it in an emergency. I think to him an emergency is if Death Eaters came.”

“Well, my parents wouldn’t let me bring mine at all,” he smiled, getting a laugh. “Well, I was heading to bed anyway.”

Marcus nodded and he collected his clothes to get dressed. Oliver settled into his makeshift bed, pulling to covers over him. He suddenly realised how cold it was. The previous night it was easier, the heater was blasting so he paid no mind to it. But tonight without it, he realised the sheets he did have weren’t enough.

But he wasn’t going to sleep with Marcus. 

He heard Marcus’s footsteps and the bed springs squeaking under his weight. He ignored him, but he wasn’t able to stop himself from shivering under the sheets.

“Y’know, maybe you should get in the bed before you freeze to death,” Marcus said above him.

“Fuck off, Flint,” he muttered, not even looking at him. 

He heard him huff. “Are all Gryffindors stubborn or is it just you?”

He didn’t reply to the snide remark. He closed his eyes, pulling the sheets over him more in an attempt to get warmer.

“Fucking hell, Oliver, you’re shivering,” he said. “Look, I’m serious, get in the bed.”

Hearing his name on Marcus’s lips was still weird. Even more weird when he was actually talking to him. 

He begrudgingly stood up, taking what was his bed with him. The torch was on again and he could see Marcus digging through his suitcase as he laid the blankets onto the bed and placed the pillow next to Marcus’s. The bed was so small despite being made for two people. And they were both quite big. And it would be so difficult to not touch. 

“What are you doing?” he asked Marcus as he pulled out a hoodie. 

“Here,” he said putting it out to him. “You can wear it for warmth. It’ll be pretty big on you so it should be warmer.”

He stared at the hoodie, completely caught off guard. “Are you-“

“Just take the bloody hoodie,” Marcus cut in. Oliver smiled a little and took it, seeing the symbol in the dim light.

“Montrose, huh?” he asked.

Marcus nodded as Oliver slipped it on. “Yeah, I want to play for them. Playing for England’ll be cool but I doubt I’d make it that far.” 

“You’re pretty good,” Oliver admitted. “You could get that far.”

Marcus snorted. “Didn’t think you’d pay me that sort of compliment.”

Oliver shrugged. He’d seen Marcus play enough, he knew exactly how he played. “Well, I’m better but you try.”

Marcus smiled a little at that. They were still them. This was the relationship he was used to. 

They got into the bed, and Oliver’s suspicions were right, the small space made them touch. Marcus slept on his back and Oliver slept away on his side. Even then, he could feel Marcus’s arm pressing against his back. 

He was warm but he couldn’t sleep. He was far too aware of Marcus next to him. His heart was racing, and goose-bumps were on his arms. And it was definitely not from the cold. 

“You awake?” he heard Marcus whisper. 

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “Can’t sleep.”

“Me either,” Marcus muttered back. 

He turned on his other side, so he was facing Marcus. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Just did.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “How long have your dad and Clare been married?”

He asked right out. He wasn’t going to approach it gently. Even if Marcus gives him the cold shoulder, this was how he knew to speak to Marcus. He was a difficult person but he knew… he knew there was far more too him. 

“Why do you care?” Marcus muttered.

“Just surprised that…” he trailed off, biting his lip

“That my dad married a muggle?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus sighed. “My mum was a muggle born, so it’s not too far of a step.”

Okay, that was something Oliver didn’t know. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. He just assumed Marcus was a pure-blood. Hearing he was actually a half blood was definitely something he didn’t expect to hear. 

“Yes, I know, shocking,” Marcus huffed. “To answer your question, they got married last year,” he said. 

He shuffled in the bed. “What did Clare ask you about this morning?” he didn’t know why he thought about it. But his reaction to Clare’s question was something that stuck to Oliver.

“None of your business,” Marcus grunted. 

“Marcus?” he asked, swallowing. He didn’t mean to call him by his first name but for some reason, they situation they were in made it feel necessary. 

“Why do you care? I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t,” he replied, his voice catching in his throat. Because he didn’t. The feelings he had for him made him want to but the truth was, Marcus Flint wasn’t even someone he disliked.

He felt Marcus shuffle so he was facing him. He barely made out his silhouette but they were looking right at each other, and his presence was so much more apparent to him. 

“I don’t hate you either,” he said softly. He swallowed, not sure what to say now. He didn’t have to, because he continued to speak. “She was asking if I took my ADHD medication.” 

He blinked at him. “ADHD?”

“Yeah, I have that. And dyslexia.”

Oliver was silent for a moment, letting it sink in. “That’s… surprising.”

“What? Thought I was just an idiot?” Oliver hesitated but Marcus kept talking. “I thought so too. Clare works with special needs kids and she caught on after she and my dad got married. After I failed my N.E.W.Ts, specifically. She asked If I was ever tested for them and we weren’t completely sure what they were. My mum didn’t know much about learning difficulties either, so yeah, no one could really help me out with that. Best I can do now is try hard but the medication definitely helps.”

“I had… fuck I had no idea.”

“Why would you?” he asked and sighed. “I’d always felt like something was wrong with my brain but Clare realising is something I’m really thankful for.”

“Yeah, she can really boss you around though.”

Marcus snorted. “She adapted to the mother role real quick,” he mumbled. “Sure you want to know what happened to my mum though.”

If he were being honest, he was curious. But he could tell it was something Marcus didn’t want to share so he hadn’t asked. “Not my business, is it?”

“Right,” Marcus replied. “But I’m sure it’s been a burning question.” Oliver didn’t reply, he was waiting for Marcus to tell him himself. And after a deep breath, he did. “She… died when I was in my first year. In a car accident during a snow storm.”

“Is that why you hate the snow?” he blurted. He wanted to slap himself. Why was that the first thing he asked him? Out of every other thing he could do.

“Yes,” Marcus said softly. “it just reminds me of it. Reminds me of Snape getting me out of the snow and calling me to his office. I saw the snow as something different. Even if it was black ice.”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “if I had known…” 

“Nothing you can do,” he said. “My dad took it hard; he’d never been a bad dad but he was always bad at showing emotion. I guess it kind of rubbed off on me. Built up walls and shit, get angry instead of dealing with problems.” 

In that moment, he saw a different side of Marcus. He was vulnerable, far more than Oliver thought he was. There was a lot to him, a lot more than he’d ever expected.

“That tattoo on my back, notice it?” Marcus asked, breaking Oliver’s thoughts.

“What about it?” he asked.

“It was her favourite flower, so I got it in remembrance of her.” 

Oliver let himself smile. “So you’re secretly a big ol’ softy then?”

Marcus laughed softly. “Maybe a little,” he said. “I remember crying when I found out. That was probably the point I refused to let myself get close to anyone.”

“Even friends?”

“My friends are fine. But I didn’t let them in too much.”

“So why me?” He didn’t mean to ask out loud, it was a thought that came to his mind that he couldn’t stop spilling from his lips. 

The question definitely caught Marcus off guard. He stiffened and swallowed. “Guess you have a way of tricking me into telling you too much,” he said. “Don’t go around telling people about this shit.”

“Wouldn’t do that to you. Not even that you don’t hate me.”

“Ah, so we’ll have to keep up that façade?” he could tell Marcus was smiling, even in the dark.

“No one would expect any less from us.”

…

Even though the power was back by the next night they decided to sleep in the same bed. After the previous night they had pretty much gotten over it. Oliver went outside to the snow, leaving Marcus inside. He was still a little thrown off by the previous night. Partly from sleeping in the same bed, partly from their conversation. 

Marcus was nothing like he thought he was for years. At least, in his personal life. He was definitely a hard person who had trouble expressing emotion. But he was someone who lost their mum at a young age. Someone who had struggles he’d never think he’d have. 

Marcus was already in bed when he got out of the shower, sleeping on his side towards his side of the bed. His body looked relaxed so maybe he’d already fallen asleep. He tried not to think about it as he turned out the light and went to the bed, trying not to brush against him. He laid on his back, very aware of Marcus next to him. His body was stiff, his hands on his sides. Marcus was breathing gently, still on his side towards him. He tried to get his mind off of him, he didn’t need those goddamn thoughts about him again.

Then he felt Marcus’s hand brush against his. 

He dismissed it initially. It was probably just an accident. 

But he felt Marcus’s fingers brush against his palm. He felt a lump in his throat and he brushed back, grazing his fingers against Marcus’s. 

He was definitely awake. 

Marcus pressed his thumb down on his palm. He was waiting for Marcus to do… something. Was he trying to implicate he felt the same way back? If not, why would he fiddle with his fingers?

He turned onto his side, towards Marcus. It was too dark to completely make out Marcus’s face, but he could tell he was looking at him. Their lips were only a few centimetres apart. He was waiting for Marcus to do something but Marcus seemed to be waiting for him to do something too. As if to encourage him, he grazed his thumb along his cheekbone and Oliver felt butterflies in his stomach. It was with the hand that wasn’t holding his. Oliver intertwined their fingers together, licking his lips as Marcus continued to stroke his cheekbone. 

With the small amount of courage he had, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Marcus’s. Their lips moved slowly together, their fingers still intertwined. With their lips still together, Marcus free hand went from his face to the spot next to Oliver’s hip and went on top of him, straddling his legs. 

He felt his heart racing in his chest, letting out a small moan. Marcus moaned too, maybe as a result of Oliver’s. Marcus shoved his tongue into his mouth, and his body shivered, feeling weak from sheer pleasure. He put his free hand on the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. 

When Marcus did pull away for air, he kept his forehead against Oliver’s, panting heavily. Oliver opened his eyes and saw Marcus was staring down at him with his grey eyes, his eyes so soft. 

“Was right,” Oliver mumbled. “You’re just a big ol’ softy.”

Marcus snorted. “Maybe,” he said. “Just don’t go ‘round telling people that.” 

“Gotta keep up the tough guy attitude?” he asked, raising his brow at him. “Good thing it’s transparent to me.”

He smiled down at him, brushing his nose against his. “Can tell,” he mumbled and kissed his again. 

Okay, so maybe sharing a bed was a good thing after all.


End file.
